People Watching In New York And My Observations
Nayeli and Josie with the Statue of Liberty in the background
This summer a friend and I decided to spontaneously visit New York. This was my first time visiting. When I landed in New York, it felt like an accomplishment. We took a train to our hotel, and that’s when those familiar, odd feelings began. It was around 4 pm, and I immediately noticed a common theme among New Yorkers: tired eyes.
I never quite realized when I first started people-watching. I like to think I'm pretty good at it since no one ever notices me. It's not in a stalking way, but more like watching a movie—a movie without a plot but rich with genuine emotions. It's not acting; people are responding to their real experiences, and I feel fortunate to be observing at just the right moments.
During, my visit in New York I visited the Statue of Liberty, Chinatown, The MET and as many tourist places my friend and I could fit in four days. Yet, it was always the train that made me sad. It snapped me out of my tourist world and made me realize not everyone was in New York to have fun like I was. I remember seeing a man passed out, his head leaning towards the side, saliva dripping out of his mouth, and a liquor bottle on the floor between his feet. I felt sad, guilty, and hopeless.
I couldn’t quite pinpoint this feeling, but knew I had felt it before. Growing up in Austin, TX, I first experienced it when I was 17. I had the opportunity to participate in a coding camp called Kode With Klossy, held downtown in a WeWork office. Though I had lived my whole life in Austin, I hadn’t spent time in downtown till then. After a long day of coding, eating delicious foods, drinking fancy water (I thought it was fancy because it had fruit), and being in what I thought was the most luxurious office, I would wait outside for my mom to pick me up. I’d watch the homeless people trying to rest on benches in the summer heat, talking to themselves, and asking for money. Those feelings of guilt, sadness, and hopelessness would kick in.
In New York, these feelings were ten times more intense, likely because there are so many more people than in Austin. I wondered how New Yorkers could normalize seeing this. How could anyone live in New York?
Gradually, I began to understand, or at least I think I did. There was so much to do in New York, so much to see and experience. During the trip, I remember seeing a woman on the train with a little Cinnamoroll Sanrio plush hanging from her purse and thinking how cute it was! I had a Hello Kitty hanging from my bag. I remember being in Ess-a-Bagel and seeing a mom explaining to her sons to sit down and reserve the table while she ordered because it so was packed. It reminded me of my mom and my siblings when we were younger. I remember being on the terrace at the Whitney Museum, watching some guys in their late 20s playing soccer on this enormous soccer field near the Hudson River. One team made a goal and cheered while the other team fell down to their knees, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I remember seeing a very drunk guy being monitored by his sober friend at nightclub. He approached us and I thought “Of course, he came up to us”. He just wanted to dance innocently.
These moments helped me realize that New York is not as daunting as it first seemed. Maybe it’s just a city full of people trying to live their lives, just like anyone else in any other place.
It’s disheartening to see people ignoring homelessness in their own city, but haven’t I done it myself? There’s also the tired eyes of New Yorkers which I believe tell a story of hard work, striving to provide for themselves and their families in pursuit of a better future. New York isn’t so different from my city. In Austin, I have meet many individuals who want help those in need and reduce the poverty gap, and I believe the same spirit of compassion exists in New York.
